End of an Era in Mosman

I live in a suburb which has its own “village”.  The central part of Mosman is referred to as Mosman Village. There are many things about Mosman one may like or dislike. It is not a suburb for everyone. For some  it may seem posh in a snobbish way and for others exclusive, charming and elegant. For me it is all of that and I like it. What one likes about village atmosphere is that it is small, familiar, centres around its “institutions” and has its markets. Mosman fulfills such requirements. Every first Saturday of each month Mosman Arts & Crafts Markets http://www.mosman.nsw.gov.au/mosman/culture/market  are held. This is fun and reminds me of the times when as a little girl I walked enchanted with my grandmother holding my hand  through the rural food market. This was magic and I hope that Mosman kids have similar feelings to mine and that memories will stay with them for a long time. 

I had two favourite places in Mosman Village to pay a visit to passing them at my errands. One of them already closed its doors and moved away from Mosman. The second one will stop its business the Thursday before Easter. I feel sad about it. Passing the old dojo of John Dolic at Spit Junction where John held his Tai Chi, Qigong, Kung Fu and many other Chinese practice classes where now Reece Plumbing rains I feel things are no more the same. When I came to live in Mosman, 10 years ago, John and his dojo were already a well established land mark of Mosman. John operates now from Carlton and one can meet him in cyber space to practice Qigong. For me it is not the same. I miss my visits at the dojo for friendly chats and healthy,  spiritual practices. 

                             

My second favourite place has been Bridgepoint Books that used to say: we  buy books, we  sell books, we read books, and we talk to people about books.

Very well managed place with books taken care of well, at times covered in plastic for protection . Some of the books were displayed on tables in front of the shop on the first floor of  the Bridge Point Shopping Center.  

                               

Going for shopping I had a choice to take a shorter route or pass the book shop. Most of the times I chose the longer way to see what titles were displayed this time. It was fun and I will miss my detours. The owner of the shop said: something new will come up. I am sure it will, but the Mosman shoppers, including myself, will miss the shop and its owner.

                         

I know that things change with time and that new things come into our lives but a little sadness of good things that have passed will linger.

All the best, guys from Bridgepoing Books and Chinese Martial Arts dojo, I miss your presence in my village.

Story of mussels

           

I have been inspired by the last week’s lunch at Epoque in Cammeray where I had a great pot of mussels mariniere.  That lunch brought memories of a funny situation I experienced long time ago when travelling through France.

I and my partner were travelling by car from Warsaw to Paris. It was a very long journey. Google tells me that now it is 1,596 km. It was a tiring trip but I am glad that we made it as it was educational and fun.

It was my first trip to France and through France. I have been brought up on French literature and films. I admired the country and thought that anything French is the best. I must say that  in Poland I was not unique in my Francophile attitude. Poles, for ages, loved France and anything French, even if the love was not reciprocated.

So here I was, travelling at night in France, with heart full of admiration and awe but it got late and I was hungry, sleepy, impatient and tired. I was not in the best of moods annoyingly pressing my companion to stop as soon as possible. He wanted to find a really nice place to show this Polish girl, who did not know the big world yet, the best West had to offer. Eventually we left a motorway in search of any place to eat and sleep. 

We were lucky to find a smallish town and a charming hotel and a restaurant. Things started to look up. We rushed to the restaurant as soon as possible. It was a typical French place with red and white checked table cloths and not too bright lights.

So, we were eventually sitting at a table expecting a fantastic French meal. However, we had a small problem; none of us knew French at that time. Loving France as I did, I got a job to decipher the menu.  We both were to soon realise, that loving a country does not mean that it is always easy to communicate with the natives. Nobody wanted to help us to make a right choice.  I was completely lost looking at the menu and suddenly I saw the word POMME. That was promising. If something is served with apples it must be good, I thought. My French did not stretch to understanding “ de terre”. Pomme maybe be a sign of fine dining but potatoes - pomme de terre are quite pedestrian.  We were waiting with anticipation for the dish served with apples and after a while THIS appeared in front of us.... 

                               

This was not fine dining and my reputation was shattered.

Blood sausage, if prepared well, can be fantastic. I think that most likely this one was rather a nice country dish. Alas, we were not in the mood to enjoy it. It was too rude a surprise. My memory of how it tasted faded away. It was pushed into insignificance by what we saw next. On the tables around us big  bowls full of mussels started to appear.

                          



It was obviously a specialty of the restaurant. My partner may have not known enough about French but being Swedish knew all there is to know about mussels. I learnt that not only Belgium love their mussels but Swedish as well and French know how to cook them extremely well. The Swede was looking at the dining people with envy and chagrin, disappointment with his own meal showing clearly on his face. I felt that I failed him badly.


After some wine and good food, the atmosphere in the whole restaurant was significantly lifted. My companion started to communicate, in rather original way, with the French around to find out the name of this heavenly dish they were eating. He wanted to make sure he orders the right thing the next time. And it sounded like that...

People at the tables around us were now smiling, gesticulated energetically animated by wine and food. They were talking to us about things we could not understand, but it was friendly and fun. It reminded me of the Babette's Feast. 

It was an evening of learning. I learn the difference between pomme and pomme de terre and between blood sausage and mules mariniere.  And I learnt how to eat mussels "properly" using empty shells as tongs.  

My perfect day

Yesterday was a perfect day. It was a combination of catching up with a good friend, walks through beautiful parts of Sydney, seeing a great, thought provoking film, good food and overachievement of my physical exercise targets. I could not ask for more in one day.

The day started with a walk with my friend from Mosman to Balmoral. The views on the walk are breathtaking. We walked the route many times before but each time I see the bays view from the Mosman hills I stop in awe of beauty of the place, I stand silenced in admiration  and count my blessings that I live in such a beautiful place.

Balmoral is a beautiful part of Mosman famous for its beach, beautiful houses and fine dining. The Balmoral beach has views over Sydney Harbour National Park and the gateway to Sydney Harbour. It is a place that people like to come for a picnic or a swim. For me it is often a destination of my morning walks interrupted by a stop for breakfast in one of the local cafes. The cafes are always full at any day of the week but waiting for a table is pleasant watching the passersby and the water views. Yesterday we also had our traditional breakfast. Tea for my friend, flat white for me and two bircher mueslis with yoghurt and fruits. Yam!

We walked uphill back to the village part of Mosman to have yet another tea and a chat.

 
The next part of the program was a walk for lunch to Cammeray and its Epoque Belgian Beer Cafe famous for its beer. The walk was longer than I anticipated. I was tired, hot and impatient to get to the restaurant where we intended to have specialty of the house – mussels. We had a pot of mussels mariniere with a glass of sparkling rose so my spirits and enthusiasm for further walking was revived.

The film we chose was Wadja, a Saudi Arabian film directed by a Saudi Arabian woman Haifaa al-Mansour and filmed in the suburbs of the Saudi capital, Riyadh. I must confess that I am somewhat of a feminist even if not a militant one, I believe that we are all equal and I have a tendency to support women whenever I can. This film made me think that I want to do more for women than I have been doing so far. Maybe I will focus my coaching program on women? So, for me the film was inspirational and educating. I did not know much about Saudi Arabia except that it is a rich country. Maybe I knew a bit more than that but I did not have any idea of everyday life in the country. It is a subtle film, does not shout about difficult life the women is. It shows the problems of the country in such a way that I got really moved. The scene that particularly moved me was when the mother, defeated by the Islam rules allowing men to have more than one wife gains understanding for her daughter unconventional dreams. In that scene there is so much dignity, acceptance of hard reality, love and hope that things will change that it made lasting impression on me. 

It was time to walk home and check the parameters of physical exercise I had that day. This is impressive! We walked 13km, burnt 407 kcals and walked 23,549steps!.

My daily goal is 300 kcals and 10,000 steps. Nice overachievement and encouragement for the future.